Dance with Somebody
by Lady Talla-doe
Summary: It was always like this with them; as franticly passionate as the first time; stolen moments of passion admist chaos. Spock/Kirk PWP.


_Dedicated to SarahPants, my fantastic Beta, who only had to ask for smutt to get some._

**Warnings:**_ It's smutt, plain and simple. PWP. What more is there to say?_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own, you don't sue!_

Dance with Somebody.

(_Who loves me.)_

_*_

Hot hands pressed, restlessly, against his skin, the tall alien crowding him backwards. He stumbled along more then willingly, relying on those hot, long fingered hands to guide him, too preoccupied with licking every tooth in Spock's mouth to care about where he was going.

It was always like this with them; as franticly passionate as the first time. Even better then the first time, actually- because, _hell_, Spock was _hot_ when he got aggressive. And an overly touchy-feely Andorian had prompted the remarkably possessive traits in his First officer, which was why they were doing this in the nearest set of empty rooms with a functioning lock. He'd managed to pull himself away long enough to spit out the mouthful of code to Privacy Lock the door, then returned to attempting to answer the eternal question of whether or not Vulcans had tonsils. It would be easier, of course, if Spock's tongue would stop distracting him like that.

Impatient as always, Spock was already dragging Jim's shirts over his head, tossing them away carelessly as Jim attempted to return the favour. Which proved to be a tad more difficult, seeing as Spock hadn't stopped moving, and he had that intense look in his eyes, the one that said Jim was going to be naked, and _only_ Jim.

Not that he minded.

He wriggled in Spock's iron grip, moving his arms around the Half Vulcan's neck in order to press his naked torso to Spock's clothed one. Heat leaked through the fabric, drawing delicious shivers from the Captain. He grinned up at Spock, lust bright in his cerulean eyes. The Vulcan's eyes narrowed marginally, before Jim's back pressed up against the cold metal wall, birthing another, less-then-pleasant shiver from him as he hugged closer to Spock, capturing the Vulcan's lips once more. The light touch of his Bonded's mind against his brought a soft moan to his lips.

He grinned as Spock tensed. He knew he loved it when he made noises. Not that Spock would ever admit it. But the proof was pressed up against his hip, hard and hot, proclaiming loud how _very much_ his First Officer appreciated the sound.

So of course, he did it again.

Jim moaned against Spock's lips, grinding against his hard-on as he did, earning a soft gasp, and an even softer growl. In one fast movement, he was pressed back against the cool metal, wrists caught in one of Spock's hand, and pinned above his head. He shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders into a more comfortable position, and leered up at him. But before he could get a word out, Spock's lips were on his, and his free hand was moving slowly- _torturingly slowly_- down his body. Slim fingers tweaked one of his nipples, making him jerk and gasp into the kiss. Spock took advantage of Jim's open mouth, sliding his tongue against the Human's as the man panted, twisting in an attempt to recapture the attention of his hand as it moved away.

He kept the pace up for some while, slowly torturing Jim with soft touches, just enough to set his skin on fire, and make him _needitneeditneedit_ before moving away. Then he'd go, and pinch a nipple, or lick up his neck, and Jim would moan, and twist, desperate for _more, dammit!_ But Spock would move on again, teasing him.

When he'd worked him into a sweating, moaning, panting, swearing, shivering mass of need, he finally rewarded all of Jim's efforts with more solid contact.

As Jim leaned his head back, eyes closed as he panted, Spock ran his free hand down his Captain's side, caressing tanned skin and beautifully defined muscles in a blind path to his hip. Jim was watching him now, blue eyes barely open, shivering faintly – not from cold, he knew. He would never let him reach such a level of discomfort, after all. He was his _T'hy'la_, his mate. Spock would never treat him like this if he didn't know, unquestionably, that Jim enjoyed it. No, his _T'hy'la_ shivered with lust, that burned through their bond like a bonfire. Cerulean met Brown for one long, tense moment, before Jim surged forward, locking their lisp together, just as Spock's hand slipped beneath the hem of Jim's pants; he rocked backward with a low, guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut at the solid touch, breaking the kiss. Not that Spock minded. He shifted his attentions to his captain's neck, peppering it with small marks as he alternated between licking, suckling, and biting the tender flesh. Jim rocked against him, begging, thanking, praying- his words slurred together, as Spock's fingers curled around him, stroking him slowly, languidly, until Jim was reduced to breathless little whispers.

As much enjoyment as he garnered from watching his human come so completely undone, his own restraint was slowly slipping away, replaced by an undeniable need twisting in his core. _Enough._

Slim fingers made deft work of both belt, button, and zipper of Jim's Starfleet issue uniform pants, letting drop down his _T'hy'la's_ legs as he tugged at Jim's underwear, momentarily frustrated that the elastic was not doing what he wished. After a moment, it too, came free, falling down tan legs to pool on the floor.

Cool hands pressed to fabric, tugging Spock's belt open and plunging into the depths of the fabric to grasp the Vulcan's own erection, pulling it free. Jim ran his hand down the green-tinted length once, knowing Spock wouldn't let him continue the touch any longer-he could see the need in his Vulcan's eyes, knew the impatience he was warring with- but couldn't resist caressing it, just once, before catching Spock's hand of his own violation, twining their fingers together as he brought their hands to his lips, grinning like a minx before folding Spock's hand carefully, leaving his index and middle fingers extended like a Vulcan kiss, and putting them in his mouth.

Spock jerked, eyes narrowing to slits as he breathed out a soft noise, watching as Jim used his fingers to fuck his own mouth. The feel of the Human's cool tongue swirling over the sensitive digits swarmed his mind, pleasure singing along his taught nerves. Jim's eyes were sparkling with mischief- he knew but Vulcan standards such an act was considered _incredibly_ dirty, and knew just how much Spock liked it because of that. There was only one thing more erotic he could do with those hands, and he knew his mate had every intention of doing so in the next few minutes- sooner, if he kept it up.

Finally, reluctantly, Spock had to pull his hand away. Anymore, and he risked losing what shreds of control he retained. He didn't wish to hurt Jim, not now, or ever. But the human simply looked smug as he pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting them, before Jim's tongue flicked out, breaking the string. Blue burned into brown, before he stood on his toes, wrapping his arms around Spock's shoulders, letting the Vulcan' shift one of his legs until it was hitched up against Spock's clothed hip, held there by his dry hand. The lubricated fingers moved carefully to Jim's entrance, hesitating a moment, before one finger pressed slowly in. Jim stiffened, discomforted as always with the initial intrusion, but relaxed slowly as Spock murmured soothingly in Vulcan, laying feather soft kisses up and down his neck until he felt him ready to accept the second finger.

As it pressed in, Jim suppressed a sound, hands fisting in the Science Blues. Despite the reaction, no distress radiated down the bond, just discomfort. Experimentally, Spock curled his fingers, aiming for a spot he knew Jim liked- the man stiffened, Jerking rigid for a second as a sharp, surprised sound passed his lips. Spock suppressed a smile, and did it again, liking the results just as much the second time.

He took his lime prepping Jim, teasing him as he had earlier, until he reached a similar state of begging/praying/moaning as before.

Without warning, he drew his fingers away, mourning the loss of the sensation as much as Jim, but quickly repositioned until Jim's weight rested equally against the wall, and his fist Officer. Taking the hint, he wrapped his legs around Spock's hips, tugging him down into a harsh kiss just as Spock thrust up, entering in one smooth motion. The pair broke apart with identical sounds, Jim's breathing harsh and fast, Spock's little better as the two fought for control.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Spock began to move, keeping the pace slow, but speeding up slightly as Jim met him as much as he was able, thrusting down to the max as his limited position would allow. They built a rhythm, speeding slowly until Spock shifted, adjusting his grip on Jim's hip, and thrust up _just_ right, making Jim see stars.

He moaned, clenching up around his mate as his back arched, spots of light dancing before his eyes for a brief moment. Without needing to be told, Spock readjusted, and repeated the action, aiming to brush the spot every time. He didn't quite manage, but as Jim slowly devolved into a writhing, twisting, moaning mass, he couldn't help but feel satisfaction. _He _did this to Jim. No one else. _Him._

The closer Jim came to finishing, the more spermatic his movements. With every jolt of pleasure, it became harder to thrust down, meeting Spock half way. His fingers left bruises form where they clenched tight against pale skin, mind melting into the simple animalistic urges of _moremoremore!_

Just as his Climaxed spiralled up to swallow him whole, he felt Spock's steady thrusts falter, and he clenched down, intentionally driving his partner over the edge with him. White washed through the bond, both minds temporarily offlined by the shared pleasure.

When their vision returned, they clung, panting, to each other, smelling of sex, and sweat, neither caring. Precious moments caught in between the hectic deliberations. It was all they seemed to get these days- both too exhausted to do more then sleep when they finally reached their joint quarters at the end of a long day.

So Jim clung stubbornly to Spock, despite the exhausted, warm lethargy in his limbs, holding the Vulcan close, finger's buried in disturbingly perfect hair. Spock's own hands traced down Jim's back, content simply to hold him, if only for a few moments.

Fin.

_Cookies to whoever guesses what I was listening to on replay when I wrote this._


End file.
